


start over.

by thislineismine



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, I'm Sorry, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, english isn't my first language so pls yell at me if i make any mistakes, go vegan, how do past tenses work, i'll put tw's before every chapter, please don't read this, teacher!Josh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:11:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thislineismine/pseuds/thislineismine
Summary: i have no idea what i'm doing





	start over.

**Author's Note:**

> tw// alcohol

“…another consequence of the law of conservation of energy is that a perpetual motion machine of the first kind, also known as perpetuum mobile, cannot exist, that is to say, no system without an external energy supply can deliver an unlimited amount of energy to its surroundings-“ Mr. Dun didn’t get to finish his sentence as the drilling sound of the school bell interrupted him mid-sentence. A wave of visibly bored students started flowing out of the classroom, almost as if they couldn’t wait to get through another lesson that they were probably as uninterested in as in physics. The professor understood them completely though – he could imagine that a typical teenager could think of dozens of other way more exciting things to do on this exceptionally cold Friday afternoon. 

With his elbows still resting on the wooden table, he let out a long sigh and hid his head in his hands as the receding sound of footsteps started getting more and more quiet. Unlike the unfortunate students that had just left the room, Mr. Dun was already free to go - he could consider himself lucky (although he fully rejected the idea of luck) that his workday was already over at 1pm every Friday. The teacher sat back on his chair and slowly opened his eyes. Through the holes in his fingers, he could see a thin silhouette standing by the doorframe near the other side of the classroom. Before he could recognise who exactly that was, the person quickly disappeared behind the wall separating the room with a corridor. The only thing that caught Joshua’s eye was a floral pattern that the man got to see for only a split second. 

Not that he paid attention to what his students were wearing, but the man definitely could not recall seeing that eye-catching pattern earlier, when the teens were still in the classroom.

Strange.

—

Not particularly keen on spending a second longer than necessary in the school, the teacher walked down the staircase heading to the teachers’ longue, where he grabbed his black, long overcoat. He almost tripped whilst hurriedly putting his coat on – fortunately, he managed to quickly regain his balance, which didn’t stop the people around him from giving him a contemptuous glance. The man left the room and headed outside without saying a single goodbye. Even if he said a word to anybody, he doubted if he would get any response from all those people who honestly couldn’t be objectively considered as friendly or kind.

Josh has abandoned his devotion to etiquette after he had realised that majority of teachers frankly couldn’t care less about starting small talks (let alone any kind of more absorbing conversations) or engaging in any relationships with other members of the school staff. Not that the man was intent on getting closer to anyone from this high school either.

The weather that day was, as ‘the kids those days’ would probably describe it, “crap”. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the thermometers were surely showing sub-zero temperatures, basing on all the people rushing down the streets, each one of them bundled up in warm-looking coats, with scarfs around their necks and uncountable umbrellas protecting from the rain, which wasn’t even that heavy, in Josh’s opinion. He has always considered umbrellas achingly inconvenient and unnecessary – a hat or any kind of a hood has always provided him with enough protection from precipitation.

Or maybe Josh just didn’t like umbrellas for some reason.

—

After having stepped out of the exact same store he visits almost every single day, Josh took the same bus he’s been taking for the whole time he’s been working in this achingly dull high school and headed to his tiny, dusty flat he’s currently renting. Not even bothering to take off his shoes or coat, he flopped lifelessly on the threadbare, moth-eaten couch, which was a piece of furniture occupying most of the space in the dim living room. 

The man curled up into a ball with his eyes tightly closed, silently praying that his mind would shut up for even a second, letting his heartbeat stay at a regular rate and allowing his breathing to stop being so goddamn shaky. He prayed that maybe today was the day when he wouldn’t have to reach to the insides of his bag and could face the rest of the day without the same thing he’s been using to cope with almost every obstacle for the last few… months? years? Josh wouldn’t probably be able to answer that sincerely even if you paid him – he has totally lost track of time a long time ago. 

Every day looked exactly the same for him. The blinding sunlight would wake him up way too early for his liking, shining through the thin curtains onto the same couch where he had apparently fallen asleep the previous night. After managing to look somewhat decent, he'd head to the school where he would spend a few hours half zoned-out, half teaching the uninterested youth the same things he’d been teaching for… well, probably a few years now. 

And every single day, after stepping in the same exact store, he would fight the same battle with himself on this crumbling couch. 

And he would always lose it.

Josh lost that battle again today. Not physically able to stay in the same position for any minute longer, he reached out to grab his bag, using almost all the energy he had left. At this point, nothing felt better than the oh so familiar shape of the bottle being held between the man’s fingers. Falling back onto the familiar sofa with the familiar taste of the liquid already flowing down his throat, Josh could’ve sworn he felt almost at peace. Safe, even. He let out a deep sigh and felt his muscles relax, which was undoubtedly a sign of the impact that the liquid was having on the man. One of very few positive ones, if Josh were to be honest. But that was what mattered the most to him – to feel as little as possible. To feel relaxed. Peaceful. To feel all those feeling he wasn’t able to feel anymore while being sober. 

“Tomorrow”, he mumbled under his breath after some time, trying to fight away his tears, “I’ll start over. T’morrow.”

When the first stars started to shine that evening, Josh couldn’t even make out whether the wet patches on his unironed shirt were formed by vodka he managed to spill over himself during the evening or his own salty tears.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!
> 
> so this is my first ever fic, and frankly the first proper story that i have decided to put down on paper, so excuse my mistakes and general shittiness of whatever this is.
> 
> partially inspired by actual people from my environment but at the same time not really.
> 
> if you're reading this (why would you waste your time like this pls go and do sth actually enjoyable), i hope you're having a nice day/evening. take care of yourself.


End file.
